


Oh Christmas Tree

by delicious-irony (deliciousirony)



Series: SPN Writing Prompt Challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Tree, Fluff, M/M, Supernatural Writing Challenge, Supernatural Writing Challenge December 2015, kind of canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/delicious-irony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas wants a Christmas tree, but since all the old decorations in the bunker's storage rooms have been thoroughly smashed during one fight or another, Sam proposes making their own. Cas loves the idea, Dean not so much, but it's almost Christmas and Dean might just have to get over himself if he wants something he made on the tree as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the December SPN Writing Challenge; the prompt was angel.
> 
>   _This hasn’t been beta’ed yet, but a very kind soul has agreed to do so, so hopefully I’ll get around to polishing this in the near future._
> 
>  
> 
> [Find this story on Tumblr](http://delicious-irony.tumblr.com/post/136435078653/oh-christmas-tree)  
> [Find me on Tumblr](http://delicious-irony.tumblr.com)
> 
>  **[SPN Writing Challenge](http://spnwritingchallenge.tumblr.com)** | **[delicious-irony](delicious-irony.tumblr.com)** vs. **[shinarutobi](shinarutobi.tumblr.com)**  
>  **prompt:** angel  
> 

“Can we have a Christmas tree?”

Dean and Sam both looked up from the movie all three of them were watching together. The Grinch was currently in the process of burning down a Christmas tree, and as far as Dean was concerned, the timing of Cas’ question was slightly worrisome.

“Um, Cas, you know, if you’d asked that question while everybody was happy decorating and enjoying Christmas, that would have been fine, but since you’re asking now, you’re not, um, planning anything, are you? ‘Cause if you feel you wanna light something up, I’d rather you did that outside, in the pit”, Dean hedged.

Seeing as they had to burn all sorts of stuff on a disturbingly regular basis, Sam had suggested having a designated, fire proof spot to do that, outside, which they had ended up calling, jokingly, but probably not jokingly enough, the pit. And Dean, never one to miss an opportunity, had, in a singular stroke of genius, if he may say so himself, added a grill. He had been tempted to put it to the test right away, but almost two feet of snow had effectively buried that plan. 

Cas rolled his eyes at Dean.

“No, Dean, I do not wish to replicate the Grinch’s pyromanic anti-yuletide exploits. I merely thought that it would be nice to have a Christmas tree. Is that not what families who celebrate Christmas do at this time of the year? Put a variety of conifer in their living room and decorate it together?”

 _Oh_. Well. Were they a family in their family home? In a way they were, weren’t they. Two brothers by blood, and a third one by choice. The sound of that last bit made Dean somewhat uncomfortable. Cas was… many things, but not a brother. A brother in arms, maybe. Definitely. But, well, this wasn’t _Game of Thrones_. And even though Ceri and Jamie apparently had no problem getting it on despite their shared parentage, this wasn’t something Dean wanted to have anything to do with. What he _did_ want to have something to do with, was Cas and his tie and a sturdy-…

“Dean?”

Dean shook his head. Way to go, Winchester, with Cas, _and your brother_ , sitting next to you, watching the Grinch. Jim Carrey in a furry green suit with a weird tummy that did not do anything to hide what most males had between their legs, but then, considering babies were flown in Mary-Poppins-style in little baskets, the good people of Whoville were probably not bound by the usual laws of biology. Hell, they lived in a snowflake, for crying out loud. Now, what if Cas were all rosy-cheeked and rosy-nosed and a snowflake landed smack on the middle of the tip of his nose, and if Dean kissed it away, would Cas blush, and more importantly, would Dean be able to see it what with all the rosy-ness going on?

“Dean!”

Dean startled and looked at Sam. There wasn’t quite murder in his eyes, not yet at least, but the very clear warning that if he chose to act like a jerk, Sam would make Dean’s life hell. _What the hell?_

“ _Of course_ we can have a Christmas tree, Dean, right? If Cas wants one, there is no reason why we shouldn’t put one up, _is there?_ ”

Dean’s mind went _oh_ the second time in as many minutes. Sam thought he had been quiet because he did not want a Christmas tree. _Cas sitting under the Christmas tree, glowing with happiness, and the light of all the candles reflecting in his eyes, it would be beeswax candles of course to make Cas even happier, and then Dean would give him his present and Cas would smile at him, that small, content, happy smile Dean loved so much, and-…_

And yeah, this was when the warning in Sam’s eyes solidified into a promise.

“Dean-…!” Sammy glared daggers at him, the _if you’re being a dick about this I’ll have your ass_ going unsaid.

“No, sure, Sammy, we can have a Christmas tree”, Dean cut in. Damn he needed to stop drifting off like this at the merest hint of an idea that he might actually get to see -… He shook himself and added a couple of stretches for good measure. Physical movement always grounded him. But one thing was true: the angel had never had a chance to properly celebrate Christmas. Which made Dean inexplicably sad. Not that he had had a lot of Hallmark Christmasses either, but for some reason he felt that Cas should not have to suffer the same lack of festive spirit. But festive spirit was hard to come by if one was ankle-deep in some monster’s gooey innards, or running for one’s life, or, an all-time favourite, sitting in a shitty motel room with only Santa Jack and brittle thoughts about everything that was missing for company. Sam, or friends, or family, or Sam’s soul, or a Christmas tree, or a home, and Dean was specifically _not_ thinking Cas, and just, anyway, he really …-

Cas looked at him, eyebrows drawn together. 

“Dean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to”, he sighed.

 _What?_ No, wait, he _did_ want…- he really needed to stop zooming out like that.

“No, Cas, I’d lo-, I mean, I wouldn’t mind having a Christmas tree. Hell, we could do the whole Christmas shindig. Decorations, and sprouts, Secret Santa, and m-m-mistletoe-“ _don’t go there brain don’t go there don’t you dare go there and yeah shit totally went there_ ”-and…”

Sam was trying so hard to keep from cracking up, he was quickly turning the exact shade of Santa’s coat. Sam shot Dean a highly amused look, mouthing _Secret Santa_. Then he proceeded to hold an imaginary twig of mistletoe while making smoochy faces. He only stopped when he started hiccupping due to kept-in laughter and subsequently almost slipped off the armchair. 

Dean, beet-red himself, busied himself getting up and walking to the door. Cas looked so adorably non-plussed at their exchange that Dean couldn’t look at him any longer without wanting to kiss that look off his face. Or rather, have him look this non-plussed because of an entirely different reason _and shut the fuck up brain, not going there!_

Dean cleared his throat, careful not to look at the angel. At least not too much. Hell, he did that an awful lot, didn’t he, not looking at Cas whenever he felt insecure about, well, _Cas_. Unless they happened to lock eyes. Then, well, then he definitely _did_ look at Cas. Now he was careful not to.

“Cas, you better grab something warm to put on; we, uh, we’re gonna go out and, um, grab a tree. A Christmas tree. Might as well get one right away.”

In the end he did look over his shoulder to see if Cas was coming, and going by the brightness of Cas’ smile, they wouldn’t be needing any Christmas lights. Dean could feel his jaw drop at how radiant the angel looked in that moment, _and wasn’t that a sappy thought_. _Radiant_. Dean groaned. He was so screwed. _Well, wouldn’t you like to be- SHUT UP...!_

“Sam, you go look for some decorations, we’ll be getting the tree”, Dean almost shouted, his voice uncomfortably rough.

Sam, who was caught somewhere between a hiccup, breathing exercises and what sounded suspiciously like giggling, just nodded. Dean was 99.9% sure that Sam would never let him live this down. The 0.1% chance involved Sam somehow losing his memory. 

Still, Sam wheezed his consent, and Dean took off with a bubbling Cas on his heels. 

\---***---***---***---

An hour, the intended Christmas tree shedding its considerable snowy load smack on Dean, who was crouching beneath it with a saw, and a disgustingly chipper-because-immune-to-cold angel later, a frozen Dean and a happy Cas wrestled an impressive Douglas fir through the bunker door. 

Dean had felt like the marshmallow man, making good use of the onion-system of clothing: a t-shirt, a plaid shirt over the t-shirt, a woolen monstrosity he would forever deny having in his possession (which he had found in the bunker and which he was positive must have belonged to Henry, simply because), and the warmest winter coat he could find. Gloves, a scarf that to anybody who didn’t know Dean might have looked suspiciously long and multi-coloured, wound around his neck about five times and still trailing down to his thighs, a deer-stalker and fur-lined moon boots. Cas, on the other hand, had not bothered putting on any warmer clothing and had left the bunker in his usual attire. Dean had been quick to point out that it was rather cold outside, with lots of snow, and Cas had reminded him that that was nice but temperature-wise not relevant for him as an angel, even if he was still only at half-mast power-wise. Which Dean had understood, but had not been able to help feeling disappointed about, as he had had his hopes set on seeing Cas with those rosy cheeks and a nose red from the cold. 

Once the tree had been manoeuvred down the stairs and through the corridors to the library, it was set up in a corner of the room, in the vicinity of the telescope. It stood not quite as tall as the room was high, but it had grown evenly and the body was supple. The needles were soft, fragrant and a rich, dark green. The entire thing looked picture-book-perfect, ridiculously so, even with the decorations still to be added. 

Cas was admiring their handiwork, and Dean was admiring how vibrant Cas looked, before mentally slapping himself because what was he doing thinking about Cas looking _vibrant._ So instead, Dean forced himself to think about where the best places would be to put the Christmas lights and whether they would need any extensions to connect the lights to a power outlet. Because he was pretty sure they wouldn’t have any real beeswax candles, not that there was any reason to put them up or to be thinking about them. Real candles on a conifer were a fire hazard, after all. So, electric lights would be much better. Much safer. Much easier to switch on and off. Still, maybe somewhere in storage… somebody might have once needed them for a spell, and surely beeswax would keep…?

Dean was still pondering whether they had anything to attach the completely hypothetical candles to the branches of the no longer hypothetical tree ( _half-way there - friggin’ hell just forget it already_ ), when Sam made his way into the library. He nodded approvingly at the tree and then proceeded to dump an armload of paper, scissors, glue and some string onto the table. A couple of pens scattered onto the floor. 

Dean’s eyebrows twitched up.

“What’s with the arts and crafts, Samantha?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Stick it with the Samantha, Dean! I did find a couple of boxes labelled Christmas decorations in one of the store rooms, but they were completely trashed. Nice stuff too, probably antique; tainted glass, paper-thin… The boxes were sealed, but the shelf was on top of them, so… nothing much left. The decorations made of straw and fabric and stuff had moths in it, and obviously there were no electric Christmas lights. So, I figured we might as well make some stuff ourselves - if there’s one thing that we have, it’s plenty of print-out paper, so I thought we could make some origami stars, maybe look up some other stuff too, like maybe mittens or santa hats…-“

Dean gaped at Sam as his brother steam-rolled off into paper-folding heaven, clearly excited by the idea. Finally Sam caught on and trailed off.

“Well, seeing as we haven’t got any decorations, why not make them ourselves? It’s our celebration, our tree, the first one in what you are calling our new home, so why not completely make it ours?” he demanded. 

“Yeah, well, if you and Cas wanna go all kindergarten, far be it from me to stop you, but I sure as hell won’t be cutting out paper stars and colour them in like a pre-schooler”, Dean scoffed.

“Actually, origami is a highly intricate Japanese art, the enjoyment of which is not limited to one age group or gender”, Cas offered. “Also, I think fashioning the stars with our own hands would imbue the ornaments with significance.”

“Intricate art form my ass, more like advanced napkin-folding”, Dean quipped.

“Suit yourself Dean, nobody is forcing you to do anything”, Sam shot back. 

“Damn right”, Dean agreed before trolling off towards the kitchen for a cold one. He needed one after this.

It wasn’t even that he really thought origami was stupid. Sometimes his mouth just ran away with him, saying what he felt was expected of him, but half the time not meaning anything of it, or not anymore. Dean was not stupid, he knew why he did it, even if he’d probably never admit that to anybody else. Knowing did, however, not make acting differently that much easier, and sometimes autopilot still just took over. 

Now Dean felt confused and left between places. Usually the way things went was that Sam (or Cas) would want him to do something and he would bitch about it, and they’d be going back and forth, until finally, once he felt he had resisted enough to safeguard his honour as a manly man, Dean would grouchily agree to help. Making sure everybody was well aware he was only doing this for Sam (or Cas). Today, to his surprise and disappointment, Sam had let him off the hook. He could have just kept his damn mouth shut and for once behave like a sensible adult without a slew of issues as long as the Mississippi. He twisted the bottle open. He could still do that. All he’d have to do was swallow his pride and join in. But god, the ribbing he’d have to endure… Still. 

Cold beer in hand, he peaked back into the library, careful not to draw any attention. Paper was spread all over the table, the laptop set up in front of Sam and Cas, currently showing a YouTube tutorial on how to fold a piece of paper into what seemed to be a small Christmas tree. Sam was cutting the paper into squares, while Cas was furiously colouring a sheet of paper with a bright green highlighter, apparently the only green colour they had found. Their faces were crunched up in mirror images of enthusiastic concentration. Dean bit his lip. He thought he remembered some coloured paper in one of the supply boxes. Whether it had originally been intended for colour-coded filing purposes - and Dean didn’t put this past the Men of Letters’ persnicketiness - or as an ingredient or carrier medium for some sort of spell, and even if the colours had faded a little, it would still be better than a blotchy, neon-green Christmas tree. 

Cas was finished colouring and started folding. A few moves in, he huffed, clearly annoyed.

“Sam, this paper is not cooperating. Maybe I should stick to stars, they seem much easier to make”, Cas said.

Sam looked up from the star he had started.

“Cas, don’t worry, it just takes some practice - make sure the edges are all crisp and clean and you’ll be golden”, he laughed.

Cas sighed. 

“It’s just, I can’t seem to be able to properly open these triangles up and fold them in on themselves.”

“Let me show you again. This doesn’t look bad at all, Cas, especially considering it’s your first one… Just look here, you need to- actually, it might be easier if you turn it around. Yeah, like this. Now, I know this part’s tricky, just place your finger here… and then flatten this out… exactly, there you go.” 

Sam smiled as he stepped away from Cas again. He had been leaning half over Cas and Dean had momentarily forgotten his beer. He took a deep swallow now. Some teasing for coming back tail between his legs wouldn’t be so bad, would it? They were having fun, decorating the tree together, and wasn’t this what this was all about? Also, Cas might want to try something else later, and he might need help again. He could look up something really complicated, and then teach Cas, and he might have to stand this close next to him for some time as well until the angel caught on. _How to fold it. How to fold it. Definitely_ not _how Dean felt. That would be… awkward, probably. Not good. Stop thinking._ Dean felt a cough coming on and quickly retreated from the door. 

Riding his current wave of courage, he hurried down the stairs towards the storage rooms. Now, if he could just remember where exactly he had seen those boxes… They would probably be either in the room with all the spell stuff or the one with the office supplies and all the stuff for the upkeep of the bunker, depending on their intended usage. On a hunch, Dean tried the latter one first, and, sure enough, Dean had traced Sam’s obsession with colour-coded post-its back to the right side of the family. Clearly, the Men of Letters must have had a collective kink for filing systems, because the supplies were… plentiful, to say the least. Plentiful and comprehensive. Maybe instead of getting Sam a proper Christmas present, he could just show him this room. Dean found the right boxes and leaved through swaths of coloured paper before he picked a couple of sheets from each colour. The paper had kept the colours astonishingly well despite it probably having been tucked away here for a good fifty years. Careful not to crinkle his find, Dean made his way back upstairs.

When he got close to the library, he could hear excited talking and laughter. He couldn’t help smiling. It had been so long since any of them had been laughing like this, happy and carefree. It would be nice doing stuff together. He had found some gold and silver paper in one of the boxes; maybe they could figure out how to fold an angel. The thought made him smile.

He was just about to enter when he heard Sam snicker loudly. 

“But Sam, Dean is a grown man, I’m sure he knows how to use his fingers properly to get the desired result.” 

“Cas, for an angel, you have a pretty dirty mind.” More snickering. “But seriously, could you image Dean sitting here with us -snigger- doing _it_? Stars and angels and wings and tiny -njeheheheheee- packag- sorry, parcels? _Dean_? He’d probably be rather _unfolding_ everything.”

Dean heard Cas laugh. A throw-back-your-head kind of laugh. 

“Oh, Sam, I do not think he would do that. And even if he cannot do it, there is no fault in failing honourably. Besides, you could teach him.”

There was a choked sound that suggested Sam was currently choking on his own laughter.

“Oh my god, Cas, I’m _so not_ teaching Dean. _You_ can, if you want to, but seriously, _would_ _you?_ I mean, there’s no designated girl-part anyway, so-“

And this was when the angel and his brother broke down in actual giggles and Dean unceremoniously dropped the paper on the floor. He turned to the kitchen instead, grabbed another beer, went to the garage, got into Baby and drove.

\---***---***---***---

“Cas, need something to drink? We’ve been going at it for almost two hours now; I’m gonna go get a beer.”

Cas looked up. Sam was rolling his shoulders and stretching in his chair.

“That would be lovely, Sam, thank you. Although, I think I might actually prefer tea; I’ll come with you and make some.”

Sam shrugged. 

“I can have some tea, too. Dean just always has beer and it’s become such a reflex. It’s not very Christmassy, is it…”

Cas just smiled. Dean’s consumption of the alcohol had been a point of worry between him and Sam for a long time, but since they had kind of settled down at the bunker, things had gotten better. 

Suddenly Sam brightened. 

“You know what, Cas, let’s make some eggnog - we have a Christmas tree, we should also have eggnog. Have you ever had eggnog, Cas?”

Cas shook his head. 

“Not that I’m aware of”, he said. “But I would like to try it. What is its connection to Christmas?”

Sam shrugged. 

“No idea, but people traditionally have it around Christmas tim-whoah!”

When Sam left the library, he suddenly felt the floor sliding underneath. They looked down and found the floor covered in sheets and sheets of brightly coloured paper. As if on cue, their eyes shot up and met. 

“Sam…”, Cas started, slowly, “What is this paper? How did it get here?”

“I completely forgot we had those… I think I once saw some boxes with paper in one of the supply rooms. Dean must have gone to get it for us”, Sam shrugged. “Well, gift horse and so forth, but he could have come in and handed it over properly instead of being a dick and just dropping it here.” 

Cas looked doubtful.

“Dean!” Sam hollered. “Thanks for the paper, but you could have given it to us, jerk!”

There was no answer. The bunker remained quiet apart from the usual background tick-tick-tock of the ancient building and the machinery that kept it alive. Miffed, Sam strode off towards Dean’s room, but, when he marched in after there had been no answer to neither his knocking nor his calls, there was nobody there either. They tried phoning Dean, but all their calls immediately went to voice mail. A quick look into the garage confirmed Baby’s absence, which heavily implied Dean was nowhere to be found in the bunker. 

“Why would Dean leave like this, without saying something?” Cas wondered. He looked worried. “You don’t think anything happened to him, do you?”

“What, like, here in the bunker? Unlikely, you know how heavily warded it is against pretty much anything.”

“Clearly the past has shown that a lot of unfortunate incidents can take place in here, despite all the warding”, Cas answered. He worried his bottom lip. “But still, assuming that nothing supernaturally untoward has happened, the original question still stands: why did Dean leave this way? Without a word and all that paper on the floor?”

Sam sighed. 

“We both know that there really is only one thing to make Dean take off like that, and that’s if he feels… well, ‘unwanted’ is probably the best word for it…”, Sam trailed off. His initial look of surprise quickly morphed into one of distressed understanding. “Cas, did you by any chance hear Dean walk to the library? By any chance, could he have overheard something when we were mucking around earlier? All those ridiculous double-entendres about Dean and, what did we call that never to be repeated conversation, ‘origasmi’?”

“But how could he misunderstand…-“

“Well, imagine he heard just part of it”, Sam cut in. “Out of context… Would just be like Dean, to stomp off first and ask questions later.”

Cas blanched.

“Do you think Dean is angry? Or emotionally hurt?” 

The angel looked so heartbroken at that idea, Sam couldn’t help but mirror his pained expression.

“I don’t know, Cas, maybe”, Sam said.

“Then what do we do now? Try and find him?”

“I don’t think we can… I don’t think there’s much we can do except wait for him to come back.”

Cas did not look happy about this, but he nodded. They trudged back into the library, and continued their work, eggnog long forgotten. They used Dean’s paper.

\---***---***---***---

Dean was still aimlessly driving down the Interstate when Cas and Sam realised they might have chased him off. He was berating himself for chickening out, but hearing them laughing like this, kind of about him, whatever those weird comments had been really about, had made him lose his nerve. The teasing had not been unexpected, and neither had their assumption that he’d probably suck at origami or that he might intentionally and perpetually get stuff wrong until they’d ask him to stop.  If that was what they had been talking about. Dean couldn’t quite see why that might have warranted laughter and giggling, but it might have been a case of needing to have been there to get the joke. What had really caught him unawares had been Cas giggling like that. He definitely did not know what to make of that, _and if any part of that part of his brain that_ had _an idea could kindly shut up_ NOW _thank you very much_.

Dean’s only worry right now was that there would be nothing on the tree from _him_. Going back now for more origami was definitely out of the question. Besides, he was almost two hours away from the bunker now; by the time he got back, even if he turned around right now, they would already long have finished. 

It was dark outside, and while the highway had been cleared from snow, it was still reflecting the headlights in a way that had Dean keeping the speed down. It had been late afternoon when he had taken off, and by now it was well into the evening. Dean could feel his stomach grumble and coffee would not be a bad idea either. Also, at some point he would have to turn around. Keeping this in mind, he took the next exit and was soon cruising through a smallish town with a German sounding name, looking for a diner and a supermarket. The diner for some food and coffee, and the supermarket for whatever last minute Christmas stuff they might have left. Maybe he’d get lucky and they might have at least some LED lights he could add to the tree. 

To Dean’s immense delight, there was a diner right next to a heavily decorated supermarket. The diner was a quick affair and nothing to write home about; the most remarkable thing about the small family place had been the conspicuous absence of any and all Christmas decorations. As the waitress was quick to explain in the inflectionless voice of the much-put-upon and the too-often-asked-the-same-question, the owner had decided not to join the Christmas madness. In contrast, as soon as he'd walked through the doors of the supermarket, Dean found himself in the middle of a Hallmark ad for Christmas and Christmas decorations. Everything shone and blinked and, more often than not, made weird sounds. To his enormous surprise, he did find some nice looking electric lights, simple yellow lights without any blinking special effects. They also had traditional clip-on candle holders for Christmas trees, and if Dean took a pack it was only to be prepared for all eventualities, because that was probably something people should have in their house, like, uh, stain remover. The Winchesters had lots of stain remover, but so far no clip-on candle holders.

On a separate little display, an elderly lady was selling gingerbread. Homemade, as she told him proudly. Her grandson had a bakery, but these she had made herself. She smiled and offered Dean a sample. Dean almost went crosseyed with delight. It tasted like edible Christmas. The picture-book granny smiled some more.

“You know, when I was a young child, my mother used to make all sorts of different shapes and decorate them with nuts and candied cherries and other sweets. People didn’t have all that much back then, so gingerbread was a fine treat for Christmas. Especially the one you just tried, sweetie - there are tons of honey in that one, so it stays soft a long time. And if it does get a little hard, you can always put it into the oven or in a warm place for a little while, and it will soften up again. Or use it as decoration on the Christmas tree”, she said.

Dean perked up. 

“Decoration for the Christmas tree?” 

“Sure, make sure the pieces are a decent size, wrap each piece individually in clingfilm, push a thread through each one and and then put them up on the tree.” 

She picked up a rectangular piece and showed Dean. 

“Are there any other shapes as well?” Dean inquired. 

“Tons”, the lady beamed. “We’ve even got a couple of our Christmas sets left - here’s one with a comet, a heart, a Christmas tree, a star and a candy cane, and here’s one with Santa Claus, Rudolf, a stocking, a bell and a snowflake. There is also this slightly more random set; it’s actually not specifically for Christmas, but it has been popular this year - it’s an animal collection and comes with a squirrel, a snail, a cat, a hedgehog, a moose or a reindeer, I’m really not quite sure. A lot of people like angels, but I’m afraid the angel set has already sold out… it was lovely, an angel with the wings spread wide, and another one playing the trumpet and so forth. But well, if you’ve got your heart set on that one, you could always simply get a separate angel cookie cutter-“

Dean laughed out loud.

“An angel? Hell, no. I’m not putting dicks with wings on my Christmas tree.”

No sooner had the words left Dean’s mouth that he turned beet red. Grandma blinked at him. And blinked some more. Until she dissolved in a fit of giggles. Whether it was because of what he’d said, or his unease thereupon, Dean did not know. Both, probably, by how the mischief was showing in granny’s eyes. 

“You know, the first joke recorded in the English language was a dick joke; also, just because I’m not your age anymore doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten all about this sort of thing”, she cackled. “But anyway, you might want to visit my grandson’s bakery - it doubles as a small shop for cake-making supplies, and he sells all sorts of cookie cutters. Some are for cutting adult cookies, if you know what I mean.” She winked at him and then wrote down the address of the bakery on the back of a thin manual containing ideas for an array of gingerbread projects, ranging from simply pieces of gingerbread to more ambitious enterprises like a Christmas tree made entirely of gingerbread and standing afoot high, or an entire gingerbread house, complete with a cat on the chimney. "My grandson's wife keep bees and Peter also sells some of the honey and other things Caren makes in his shop. That's the honey I used here; it's very good.

In addition to a couple of packets of the all-important gingerbread spice mixture, Dean ended up taking the Christmas set with the stars and the one with the moose, just to get a kick out of Sam bitching about it. Then he drove almost to the other side of the town and got a giant angel cookie cutter as well as, to Deans surprise, disbelief and immense delight, a cookie cutter shaped like a giant dick (”With nuts!” Dean crooned when the young man handed the cutter to him, taking it out of a box kept behind the counter; Dean still felt proud about his topical pun when he got back into the Impala). He also got the supplies he needed, including a couple of small bags with dried fruit, nuts and other stuff to put on the gingerbread. Last but not least, Dean bought three jars of Caren's Organic Home-Made Honey, two of which he'd give to Cas. Dean was almost sure that they might probably be close to running out of honey anyway. He also added two packs of the beeswax candles that were very suitable for being used on a Christmas tree, as Peter assured him. Dean also took a large pillar candle decorated in a honeycomb pattern with little three-dimensional wax-bees. When Peter asked him if that candle was for himself or for somebody special, Dean said it was just for a Christmas present for a friend. However, he blushed furiously, and when Peter handed him the packed up candle with a knowing smile, it was wrapped up not in the normal brown packing paper like the other candles, but in a nice one with tiny bees and and hearts printed on it.

\---***---***---***---

By the time Dean got home, Sam and Cas were frantic and would not stop apologising. Once it was clear that Dean was ok, Sam threw an angry fit, and Cas was a study in looking contrite and hurt at the same time. Dean ignored Sam until he had calmed down, answering his emphatic ‘jerk’ with an equally enthusiastic ‘bitch’ and that was that. Cas, Dean didn’t know what to do about; he had not said anything during the entire thing with Sam. Dean threw them out of the kitchen and forbade them to enter the library as well. Just before Cas left, he turned around, looked at Dean with mournful eyes.

“Dean, I just want you to know that I want you.” 

Dean’s mind crashed full-speed into a concrete wall. He gaped and immediately turned the colour of a well-cooked lobster, quickly followed by Cas once he realised how that had sounded.

“I mean-” He swallowed. “What I mean is, I, um, you are not unwanted. I want you here. I mean, I know that this is your home and that I am a guest and I could not demand you leave here even if I wanted you to, but I just wanted to tell you that I don’t want you to ever be… not where I am”, Cas finished sheepishly. And then he spun around on his heels and took off without another word. Dean needed a good ten minutes to stop staring after him. Then it occurred to him that saying something to Cas - anything - in return might have been a good idea. _Telling him you think the same about him might have been a good start_ , the annoying little voice in the back of his head whispered. Wasn’t there any way he might not have to have that conversation? His eyes fell on the bags chock-full with baking supplies. Well. _Well_.

The instructions in the manual were easy to follow and soon Dean was standing in front of ten dicks with wings, the wings having been cut off the regular angel cookie cutter and attached to the dicks. There were also three more baking trays, one with multiple versions of the animals, and one with the Christmas decorations. Once the gingerbread had been cooled off a little, Dean painstakingly iced some of them, sometimes using different colours to paint them according to the motif they were displaying. The last piece was the big gingerbread angel. Dean had given him a caramel trench coat, dark-brown chocolate hair and blue m&m’s as eyes. The m&m’s had melted in the oven, and now looked somewhat less blue and more like a chocolate explosion, but Dean simply added some of the blue icing on the eyes, even though now it did not visually improve things by much. Dean shrugged. Everybody important would know it was him. The wings on the dicks got a simple outline in baby-blue. Then the dicks and the moose were put onto the tree, right after Dean had wrapped the LED lights around it. Dean unwrapped the beeswax candles he had bought, stuck them into the candle holders and clipped them onto the boughs of their Christmas tree. When he checked once more that there was nothing flammable right above the candles, he couldn't help the goofy grin spreading over his face when he imagined Cas' face when he'd discover the candles tomorrow. His grin was much less sappy but much more gleeful when he thought about Sam's reaction to the moose and the winged gingerbread dicks.

Dean knew he had been successful when he watched Sam come into the library the next morning and see the tree for the first time. In a last stroke of genius he had added some white icing to a strategic place on the winged dicks. Just wait until he'd have Sam try one... oh, the joes waiting to happen. Cas looked between puzzled and weirdly interested in the anatomic possibilities, until he realised who the dicks with wings were supposed to be. His face fell. Dean took this as his cue to hand each of them their box with the other pieces of gingerbread. When Cas saw the box full of gingerbread hearts and the wingless angel sitting on top, his smile lit up the room, and immediately focused on Dean. Dean could not look away, and at that moment he realised that he honestly might be falling in love with that angel. Hell, he had already fallen hook, line and sinker. And for the first time, thanks to a stupid misunderstanding, origami stars and a gingerbread angel, he felt hopeful that he might just not be the only one in love with their best friend. 

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a small art blog, delicirony.tumblr.com \- my art tag is #delicirony. If you’d like to have a look, you can find [my artsy stuff on AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/delicirony) too.


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